Ice and Fire
by LoyaulteMeLie
Summary: The luxurious surroundings during a First Contact give Hoshi an idea. It sounds simple enough - but is it? Rated for sexual situations, please do not read if you are offended by this type of material.
1. Chapter 1

**Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no profit made.**

**Beta'd by VesperRegina, to whom I am, as always, deeply indebted, especially for the invaluable suggestions for improvement.**

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><p>Author's Note: Dedicated to Belen09, in thanks for all her support over the years.<p>

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><p>The sun had set.<p>

The reception was over at last, and the members of the landing party were finally free to retire from their official duties. The bHek did not carry out business of any kind after sunset, and luxurious quarters had been provided for their guests.

It was a lovely planet, and even Lieutenant Reed did not hold out any serious fears for the safety of the ship's officers. Their hosts were gentle people, and had welcomed them with great warmth and curiosity. More celebrations were scheduled for the next day, so it behooved them all to rest while they could; just as the bHek slept with the sun, so they woke with it. As it was currently high summer, dawn would come early. The visitors would need to be up and dressed by the time the first wink of fire showed on the horizon.

"I can't sleep just yet." Hoshi stood on the terrace, looking out across the lawn that separated the guest quarters from the gardens. The sky was still full of light. Two of the moons were out already, the silver one nearly at the full and the other larger one a bronze sickle low near the horizon. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"Would you like me to come with you?" The lieutenant had been leaning on the balustrade a little distance away, and spoke diffidently. The captain and T'Pol had already vanished to their respective rooms. Trip had not been seen since the reception broke up – presumably he had some assignation. The bHek prided themselves on their hospitality, after all.

The thought soured the wine she'd drunk, though she'd been sparing with it; after all, this was a First Contact and she had to be careful with the niceties of the language. Trip was a handsome man, and unattached. For some time now she'd been conscious of a spark between them, one that wanted only fuel to become a blaze. Here in the gardens there was fuel to spare: solitude, and the beauty of the night.

Glances she'd intercepted during the course of the reception had seemed to indicate that Trip was equally aware of the possibilities. She'd naturally hoped that he might take the hint when she left, but time had passed and it seemed that he had not.

But she'd come to like Lieutenant Reed, more than she'd ever expected to when she'd first come on board; had come to recognize that behind the stiff, rather unlikeable façade lay a quiet and surprisingly gentle man, whose rare smile transformed his face. She'd spoken more to herself than to him, but was unwilling to wound his feelings by a refusal. Even off duty he remained ever vigilant for the safety of all of his charges, and she guessed wryly that with his quaint old-fashioned gallantry a woman would be the object of his special solicitude.

Besides, he was the kind of guy who would be quiet company, not thrusting himself unwanted on her notice if she just wanted a stroll. He was quick on the uptake with things like that.

"Sure, if you want to," she said with a smile.

He didn't smile in return, but his expression softened slightly with pleased surprise, as though he'd been expecting a rebuff. That didn't come as any shock to her; she'd already come to the conclusion that he was awkward with women. She'd occasionally wondered whether he might be homosexual, but Travis's account of their visit to the Rigel Trade Center, where Reed had displayed distinct interest in two all-but-naked female dancers apparently catching butterflies with their tongues before consuming them, suggested otherwise.

She walked down the steps. At the foot she stopped and removed her shoes; carrying them would be no trouble. The b'Hek had assured the visitors that there were no dangerous insects or animals in the gardens, and the temptation to experience the sensation of grass against her bare feet after so long was irresistible.

Her companion watched her, saying nothing. At a guess he was worrying that she'd cut herself on something, or walk on a thorn, even if she was unlikely to be savaged by any of the local wildlife. She controlled a twinge of impatience – after all, it was his _job _to worry. It couldn't be easy, not having an 'off' switch.

"Wouldn't you like to do the same?" she asked impulsively, at the prompting of some imp of mischief. She couldn't imagine the ultra-serious and aloof security officer stepping so far out of his formality.

Surprisingly, he didn't refuse immediately. After a moment, though: "I don't think that would be appropriate, Ensign." There was, however, the faintest suggestion of regret in his tone.

She exhaled. The feeling of her bare toes wriggling in the cool, slightly damp grass was wonderful – even better than she'd thought it would be. "Your loss."

He inclined his head slightly, and the two of them began to walk. She didn't hurry; there seemed no need, on such a lovely night. He matched his pace to hers, uncomplaining.

It took them perhaps five minutes to cross the long lawn. The path among the shrubs was paved and smooth. Here and there among the borders small blue lights cast pools of dim radiance across the paving so that one knew where the path led.

The garden had evidently been laid out with evening rambles in mind. Although the daytime flowers were closed up, there were evidently many varieties that opened at night, releasing their scent on the cool still air. Moths the size of small bats fluttered by, the markings on their wings luminescent when they landed on open blossoms and began to harvest the nectar.

"Oh, look!" She pointed at one that alighted on a leaf perhaps half a meter away and began to display. "It's a Klingon moth!"

"What?" Reed looked startled. Instinctively his right hand dropped to where his phase pistol would be if he was wearing one.

"The markings on its wings. Look." On the surface of each wing was a glowing mark that resembled the Klingon numeral _wej_, meaning 'three'.

"Is that all?" He looked irritated for a moment, but then grinned ruefully and looked closer. "It looks like a falcon to me. A hunting falcon. Except that it's got no head."

"I suppose so." _Trust_ _him to perceive a resemblance to some kind of predator_, she thought. She watched the huge insect with interest. It was sitting quite still, but every few seconds it fanned its wings, turning the glowing marks into a shimmering smear of silver. "We should make a recording of it for the Exobiology Department."

"On the contrary. I'm off duty and I have much better things to do with my time than take recordings of an insect purporting to be an export from Q'onos. In addition to which, you may or may not have noticed that we have no tricorder or any other recording equipment." His words were acerbic, but the last sentence was gently teasing.

"That would help, I suppose."

The moth fell still. The mark that resembled _wej _or a headless falcon gleamed again in the moonlight. The perfume of the flowers nearby was so strong it seemed to pulse through the air; each bloom was an exquisite, luminous pale blue cup, its petals darkly veined and perfect.

"What do you think it's doing?" She expected it to fly away, or crawl to a flower. It seemed a waste of energy to be just sitting there fanning its wings.

The lieutenant coughed. "Pheromones, I'd imagine," he said, somewhat shortly.

Hoshi tried to suppress a giggle. He sounded so embarrassed. "At least it's simple, being a moth."

He muttered something that sounded like 'Enviably' as he turned away. His back was rigid - probably with offended modesty.

Once again she wished Trip was out here with her. He would have known just what to say about the horny moth, sending out its come-hither messages in the moonlight. Instead she was lumbered with Mister Propriety, who was so uptight it was only surprising that he knew what pheromones were, let alone felt able to utter the word in the presence of a member of the opposite sex.

"So how would you go about signaling _your _availability, Lieutenant?"

The words were out before she could think better of them, and she could have bitten her tongue out as soon as they were uttered. Knowing how uncomfortable he was with the subject, it was hardly the part of a friend to tease; and for all that the difference in their respective ranks lay between them – like a duranium fence, as far as he was concerned, at a guess – she'd like to think that he thought of her as a friend, within those limits.

He turned back to her. His face was still and blank, though the eyes in it had gone wide. She braced herself for a stinging rebuke, knowing she deserved it; and wishing with all her soul that she could have called back the stupid question and never have destroyed the relatively comfortable atmosphere that had prevailed between them till then.

However, his voice when he finally spoke was low. "That would depend – on whether I felt the lady in question was interested."

Color surged into her face. She tried to keep her tone light. "Let's suppose she was."

"Then I'd ensure we found ourselves somewhere private. In a beautiful garden, perhaps. With flowers. Preferably after having made sure my allergy shots were up to date first." His tone was difficult to decipher. It sounded teasing, and there was definitely self-mockery in the allusion to his allergy problems, but there was still an undercurrent of … something. Something that made her a little …

Well 'uncomfortable' wasn't exactly the word, but ...

… 'aware'…?

If he'd stepped closer she'd have panicked, but he kept his distance, watching her.

The silence stretched out until she was driven to fill it. "So, did you leave a score of broken hearts when you signed on to serve on _Enterprise_?"

"Not that I noticed, Ensign. I always put it down to my career choices, but you never know, maybe it was just me." His gaze flicked past her, back the way they'd come. "And I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear that we're about to have company."

She _was _relieved, though she hoped desperately that it didn't show in her face how much. And when Trip came into view it was all she could do not to run to him for protection from something she'd stupidly unleashed.

"I'm sure you'll be quite safe now, Ensign," Reed said evenly. "I'll bid you both goodnight." And with a nod to Trip, he walked away. After a couple of minutes she heard the small distant sound of a door opening and closing in the guest buildings, and only then was she able to relax.

But even with her face pressed to Trip's chest and his arms protectively around her, the question remained.

What exactly had happened this night?

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><p><strong>All reviews received with sincere gratitude!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Tucker**

Hell, this was sure putting the 'contact' into First Contact, thought Trip, trying to extricate himself politely from the environs of two female VIPs whose names he wouldn't have been able to pronounce even if he'd remembered them – which he didn't.

It wasn't that he didn't think they were attractive; they were both delightful ladies, and the bHek physiology was similar enough to that of humans to ensure that they would probably be compatible in all respects. A compatibility which _they_ appeared exceedingly anxious to explore, and _he_ was equally anxious to leave in the realms of might-have-been.

Still, he was a Southern gentleman, and it was not in accord with the tenets of that particular breed to leave hard feelings behind among the ladies. Unfortunately, when ladies became as determined as these two were to make his better acquaintance – and there had been moments during the evening when they'd surreptitiously made it clear just how much better an acquaintance they wanted to make – it was difficult to achieve. The more evasive he tried to be, the more determined they became. They apparently found him fascinating.

He'd tried sending Jon 'save me!' looks, but Jon had just grinned and left him to it. T'Pol was no more helpful, apart from one or two arctic stares that reminded him where diplomats should not stick their fingers, or indeed any other part of their anatomy. Malcolm was elusive, and when he'd finally gotten a chance to explain his predicament the Brit had merely shrugged and said 'Difficult!', which was true but hardly constructive. Finally, however, Travis had come through. The young helmsman had risen to the challenge with aplomb, displaying charm and cunning beyond his years. Trip would have vowed eternal gratitude if Travis's parting smirk hadn't suggested that he was already expecting to be amply rewarded for his act of self-sacrifice.

The transfer of interest had taken time, however, and it was late by the time the chief engineer was finally free to quit the hall and follow his fellow officers to the guest quarters that had been appointed to them. He'd made a note earlier of the beauty of the surrounding gardens, and had high hopes that Hoshi would appreciate them too. The few words he'd managed to exchange with her during the course of the reception had certainly suggested as much; it hadn't been arranging a date, exactly, but if she was as quick on the uptake as he thought she was…

Well, yeah, there were the anti-frat regs, but Jon had indicated several times in conversation that he felt those had never been intended to apply to five-year stints, and that, provided professional efficiency wasn't affected, he'd be inclined to turn a blind eye. That this was tantamount to giving permission was not quite certain, but it was definitely something along those lines. Whether it would need to be clarified at some point would depend on what happened – or didn't happen – tonight. And from the inviting sparkle in Hoshi Sato's very lovely eyes earlier on, Trip had high hopes that she was very quick indeed on the uptake.

He could only hope she hadn't given up in despair by the time he got loose.

His hopes took a dive as he arrived at the row of apartments. They were connected by a long verandah with an ornamental balustrade, but this was empty.

He knew which room was hers, but should he knock? The world was still and silent. Even the slightest sound would carry, and T'Pol had the hearing of an owl. Having suffered one reminder of where a diplomat shouldn't stick his fingers, he was in no hurry to get a lecture on the same rules applying to senior officers where their juniors were concerned.

No lights showed under any of the doors. Feeling slightly foolish and more than a little disappointed, he walked to the nearby shuttlepod and activated the door control – if anyone heard him, he could always say he'd thought of something that needed checking. Quickly he moved to the console and activated the sensors.

T'Pol and the captain were in their respective rooms. To his surprise, Malcolm was not. Nor was Hoshi.

He changed the scan parameters, and seconds later picked up their biosigns. Down in the gardens – just where he'd been planning to take Hoshi for a walk himself.

Jealousy ignited in him. It wasn't as though he thought the Brit was likely to make a move on her; Reed certainly didn't harbor the same relaxed attitude to regulations as he did himself, in fact he regarded them as his own personal bible, and the anti-frat regulations would almost certainly put a brake on any ambitions he might possibly be harboring with regard to Hoshi. But companionship (if not surroundings) so exquisite would be utterly wasted on a man like Malcolm, and the thought of such a waste when he himself would make full use of them was not to be borne. The sooner he got down there and interrupted any potential tête-á-tête the better. Reed wasn't stupid; he'd get the message soon enough, and then hopefully he'd vanish, leaving the field to the favored suitor.

He was honest enough to feel a twinge of remorse at his own lack of charity as he strode down the lawn. He and Malcolm were slowly becoming friends, and it wasn't likely that the Englishman would even try to poach in another man's territory. Nevertheless, he couldn't quite suppress the memory of the number of 'farewell letters' that the tactical officer had dictated in the Shuttlepod on that memorable occasion when they'd been stranded and thinking themselves the only survivors from the ship. Far from being the virtual recluse he'd always thought him, it seemed that Reed must have dated pretty well half the women in San Francisco. For all that it was laughably difficult to picture the shy, awkward Brit as some kind of Casanova, still the thought of him being alone with Hoshi made Trip frown ever so slightly; it dawned on him that it was not as easy to classify Malcolm Reed as might have been imagined.

If he were honest with himself, his unease was fed by certain speculations that had drifted through his mind from time to time ever since that adventure in the 'pod. At some point during those hours while they waited for what had seemed like certain death, the thought had occurred to him that there was something they could do to snatch a final burst of joy from their lives; sure, it would waste oxygen, but on the other hand, waiting patiently to suffocate wasn't his idea of fun. He hadn't voiced it, mostly because the other man had never given any indication of homosexual inclinations and Reed was antsy enough with him as it was. Nevertheless, Trip's early sexual experiences had included a period of experimentation with other young men, and although he'd settled down comfortably into heterosexuality he retained pleasurable memories of the encounters he'd had. If Malcolm had ever shown interest…

… But Malcolm never _had_ shown interest, and so the fleeting temptation had been suppressed. Nevertheless the idea had lingered: what would it have been like? Occasionally he'd found himself glancing surreptitiously at the lieutenant's body when it was stripped down and glistening with sweat in the gym. There was no doubt of it, the guy was good-looking.

Good-looking enough, no doubt, to attract Hoshi's eye. If Trip had been more inclined to self-analysis it might have occurred to him that the pangs of jealousy that quickened his pace down the lawn were not entirely on Hoshi's account, but he told himself that he was just concerned for an inexperienced young ensign's welfare.

Still, it came as something of a shock to find the two of them appearing anything but relaxed in each other's company. If it hadn't been unthinkable, he'd have thought Hoshi was scared of her companion, while Malcolm's expression was almost – well, it was hard to say what it was, but there was a smile on the tight mouth that was definitely not pleasant. And his acknowledgment of Trip's arrival (you could hardly call it a greeting), although civil enough and even superficially airy, had undertones of something perilously close to bitterness.

Trip stared after the Brit, confused by his sudden departure. It was all too obvious that the atmosphere between him and Hoshi had been charged with tension – sexual tension. Okay, it was the outcome Trip had intended, and the retreat of the foe had left the field clear for him; but such a spineless withdrawal was so unlike the behavior he'd have expected that he was more bewildered than relieved.

Why had Malcolm appeared so bitter? Had – had Hoshi made a move, and–?

That thought sent Trip's thoughts leaping madly in too many directions. He and Malcolm had gone on the pull down on Risa, and at no time had the Englishman shown any interest in anything but female company.

Was that because he was strictly het, or because – hell, what if he was just -

_What's gotten into you, Trip? Askin' a few too many questions here, aren't ya? What's it to you if Malcolm's not as straight as you always thought?_

The Brit's parting words, however, had been innocuous enough, their tone far more like what you'd normally expect from the ship's tactical officer; and he'd left at once, returning to the guest apartments without a backward glance.

Trip had very much hoped that the evening would end with Hoshi in his arms, and it happened even faster than he'd hoped it might. As soon as Malcolm was out of sight she stepped forward and threw her arms around him, her entire manner so shaken that his embrace in return was more protective than impassioned.

With an effort he pushed his confused thoughts about the armory officer out of his mind. Hoshi was in his arms. It was Hoshi who mattered, Hoshi whom he wanted.

"Hey, what's wrong, Hoshi?" His voice sharpened. "Has somethin' happened between you two?"

"No, nothing – it was just something stupid I said," she whispered.

"You sure?" He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. His eyes were searching, anxious. It was unlike her to be this nervous; if anything, Malcolm's presence usually served to steady jittery members of the crew, and she'd outgrown her initial anxieties some time ago.

"Absolutely…"

Her upturned mouth was an invitation he saw no reason to resist. Normally he'd wait until the signals had gotten a lot clearer to proceed, but right now a kiss would serve two purposes. He began gently, ready to release her if that was what she wanted, but she responded as readily as he'd hoped she would; his arms tightened around her. She was so slender and pliable, like a willow wand, and her hair smelled faintly spicy. Her mouth was delectably soft.

After a few moments she withdrew, and smiled up at him. He smiled back, grateful that she'd gotten over whatever had spooked her.

They began walking through the gardens. He offered his arm, and Hoshi slipped her hand through it.

The scent of the flowers and the light of small, ornate, lemon-colored lanterns hung here and there among the trees seemed to attract many types of moths; these in turn attracted the attention of some kind of flying creatures that at first Trip took for a type of bat, but which proved to be birds – tiny and swift and fearsomely accurate, snatching the slower-moving moths out of the air as they sped down the perfumed paths. He tried to touch one as it sped past, but it merely jinked effortlessly out of the way and resumed its hunting, disappearing from view in a second.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hoshi?" he asked at last, when the silence seemed to have gone on longer than was comfortable.

"Fine."

He wished she hadn't chosen that particular word. From the faint, fleeting grimace that crossed her face, she was wishing the same thing.

She took a deep breath, and turned to face him. "Trip, I … are we going to sleep together?"

The question momentarily took him aback. It wasn't as though he hadn't been hoping that very thing, but it was unusual for a prospective bedmate to put it quite that bluntly, at least at this stage of the proceedings.

"I'm sure hopin' we are," he said, feeling he should be equally honest, if not quite as blunt.

"It could make things … complicated." Her tone was neutral.

"That's one of the reasons Starfleet put the anti-frat regulations in place." He ran the tip of his index finger lightly across her cheekbone. "But if you're not comfortable with it, I'll understand that."

She reached up and ran her fingers thoughtfully through the hair above his forehead, mussing it. "I've wanted so often to do that."

"That all you've ever wanted to do?" The fingertip trailed across her lips. "'Cause I'll tell you, Hoshi, there are a whole lot more things _I_ want to do to _you_."

Her smile in reply was somewhere between winsome and roguish. "Oh, now you've aroused my curiosity."

"More to the point, am I arousin' anything else?"

She slanted a look at him that certainly suggested so, but teasingly forbore to comment.

They walked on a little further, till they came to a bridge across a little stream. Hoshi leaned on the balustrade, looking down into the darkness where the reflections of the moons wavered on the surface. Her ears had tiny pearls in them, iridescent in lamplight. The moonlight was reflected in the nearest with a subtle, smoky sheen as put his arms around her waist from behind, leaned forward and planted soft kisses along the angle of her jaw.

"If you're not happy with things gettin' 'complicated', we could make this a one-off. What happens on the planet, stays on the planet." He planted the last and lightest of kisses on the lobe of her ear. "I'm not sayin' I don't care for you, Hoshi. Whether we sleep together or not, I want you to be happy. To have what you want."

She turned around. Her fingers had begun straying up towards his collar, but at those words she froze.

After a long, long pause, she asked: "Do you mean that?"

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><p><strong>All reviews received with gratitude!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Reed**

"Well, that went about as well as could be expected."

The sound of his own voice shocked him. It had been years since the bitterness had spilled over like that, since he'd lost control so totally.

He shut the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes.

He was used to loneliness. God knows he had reason to be; the life he'd led had seen to that. Even if it hadn't suited him to have no ties, he'd known full well that the reality behind the immaculate front he presented was unfit to be any woman's partner. He took what was offered and looked for no more, evading attempts at any intimacy that wasn't confined to the spaces of a bed. He knew that his air of 'mystery' was alluring, that women wanted to discover what lay behind it. What the reaction would be if they actually found _out_ …

He let out a huff of a laugh that was utterly without humour. More than a few had believed they had what it took to make him human. They'd all been wrong. There were too many secrets that he guarded, too many dark places into which no light should ever fall. They'd railed at him, calling him cold, and believing the curses bounced harmlessly off his ice, leaving no mark on the beast in human form.

Hoshi, though…

Maybe it was something to do with her presence in his life every day, the way her professionalism was laced with a gaiety that lightened the sometimes rather dreary hours of duty on the Bridge. His console was almost directly opposite hers; he couldn't help his gaze straying now and then. At first, true, it had chiefly been to dwell disapprovingly on the folly of bringing such a timid young woman on board, particularly in a position of such importance. The bridge officers of Starfleet's flagship were expected to perform to an exceptionally high standard, setting the example for their subordinates. He'd been grateful that only her superiors had been present to witness her loss of control on the occasion they'd boarded an alien ship to find it full of corpses; in fact, it had been in his mind afterwards to include in his report a suggestion that it might be kinder to her and more appropriate for the ship's requirements to replace her with a more experienced ensign, even if the substitute did not come with quite such a dazzling ability with languages.

But – for whatever reason – the suggestion had gone unmade. And slowly Ensign Hoshi Sato had matured, a process that he witnessed and approved of, and even admired. He always admired courage, and it seemed that the pretty young woman had courage and to spare.

Even at his most disapproving, he'd acknowledged grudgingly that she was pretty. Starfleet uniforms were not designed to flatter, but even so it was impossible not to notice that she had a very attractive figure too. Not as eye-catching (make that eye-_watering_ in some respects) as T'Pol, but the First Officer's beauty was only exceeded by her unreachability. She might be a man's fantasy made flesh, but that was all she would ever be to him – a fantasy. Even on that unforgettable occasion when she'd pleaded with him to make love to her, he'd known with cool regret that even in the unlikely event he took her up on the offer, she'd look back on it afterwards only with loathing. Maybe a Vulcan wouldn't go so far as to regard him with contempt for taking what she'd begged him to, but certainly it would damage their relationship – damage that might even affect his prospects of promotion.

So had concluded Malcolm Reed, invulnerable in his cold fortress as he weighed up the risks. Rampant sex with a gorgeous alien babe out of her head with hormones had been an appealing prospect, but it hadn't been appealing enough.

Hoshi, though…

With a sudden violent movement he turned around, lifted his fists and crashed them against the door. It was petty, stupid, pointless, and it achieved nothing. Worse still, it took him back far too many years, far further than he wanted to go, and he could hear his own childish voice yelling and pleading, "Don't lock me in, _please, _Father, I'll never do it again…"

It hadn't saved him then.

It wouldn't save him now.

Well, he might as well get to sleep. Or at least try to. Though the silence would be alive with sound, and his own ears on the stretch for it would create what they couldn't hear. Maybe it was something to be thankful for that Hoshi's room was the furthest away, with Trip's in between. At a guess, that one would be untenanted tonight.

His mouth twisted. When first informed of the sleeping arrangements, he'd worried because the youngest member of the landing party had been given the apartment at the end of the row. He'd even contemplating asking if the arrangements could be modified so that her room was between his and Trip's, thus providing protection on either side, but the friendliness of the bHek and his own weary dislike of being labelled 'paranoid' had combined to persuade him to keep silent. Now, the bitter irony was that he'd played into Fate's hands. Maybe if that empty room hadn't offered the promise of soundproofing, the lure of romance would have been less strong. Any action on his part now would have been humiliatingly transparent. He had no wish to figure as the jealous, disappointed lover, desperate that no-one else should have what he'd been denied.

Jealous and disappointed…

_Fucking loser, listen to yourself! Get a grip!_

He flung himself flat on the bed and sank his teeth savagely into his forearm to give himself an easier pain to live with. In love, and he hadn't seen it coming. In love, and without hope.

Did she love Trip? He wouldn't care so much if she didn't love him. He wouldn't care so much if it was just an exchange of bodily fluids, the meaningless pounding of flesh against flesh. He wouldn't care so much if she was just satisfying a casual lust, born of the perfumed night.

Or so he told himself, and knew he was a liar. He cared all right. His words were as hollow as his heart, and that was falling in on itself inside him like a collapsing star, to fold inwards and inwards and inwards until not even its image was left…

_"Sato to Lieutenant Reed."_

He'd forgotten he had his communicator in his pocket. The summons made him jerk as though someone had stuck a knife into him.

He wouldn't answer. He'd pretend he was already asleep. What could she want with him, except to apologise for her question earlier? And that would be the last straw.

Not tonight. He couldn't handle it tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when he'd had time to rebuild his fortress, stone upon stone, recreating the calm, unbroken surface that reflected hardly any light.

Black ice.

"Go away, Ensign." He said it aloud but she couldn't hear him. He spoke to the ceiling, the smooth lacquered ceiling that was as taut and rigid as his body on the bed.

_"Sato to Lieutenant Reed, please respond."_

But maybe it was important. Maybe (he smiled sourly at his own wishful thinking) Trip hadn't had anything more on his mind than a stroll in the gardens, and Hoshi was now worried about something. A threatening-looking insect in her room, perhaps. There'd be no point in asking for Trip's help if there was a 'bug' problem…

Maybe there really _was _something scaring her; she sounded nervous. And here was he flouncing around his room, indulging himself in his own personal pity-party while a junior officer needed help!

He pulled out the communicator and flicked it open. "Reed."

There was a tiny pause. It was amply long enough for his heart rate to double. "Er, Lieutenant, would you mind coming to my room for a minute?"

"Is it absolutely necessary, Ensign?" He kept his voice perfectly measured.

"Er, I – sir, I'd like to talk to you about something…"

He lowered the communicator and shut his eyes. She wanted to talk to him about Trip. He just knew it.

_You can do this. You know how it's done. Just think back and remember._

The room had no mirrors. That was something to be thankful for. There was no reflective surface in which he could watch the mask slip into place, the smooth mask of a Section assassin who'd do whatever was necessary, and feel nothing.

"I'll be with you in a moment," he said evenly, and closed the connection.

He took a few seconds to check that his clothes were still neat; the standards expected of an officer still applied. There was no need to worry about his face. It would betray nothing. He was far too old a hand at the game for that.

The door opened silently.

He was wearing Starfleet dress uniform, but that allowed your own choice of footwear, as long as it was appropriately smart. Perhaps it was just coincidence that his favourite shoes allowed him to walk almost without a sound.

He'd already mapped the places in the veranda where the boards squeaked, and evaded them effortlessly. Old habits died hard, it seemed.

He was half expecting her to be waiting for him, but the door was shut. For a long moment he stared at it, and then he touched the handle and it opened.

Drawing a deep, carefully silent breath, he walked inside.

Hoshi, all but _naked. _Standing right in front of him. Her hands covering her breasts, as they had done on a long-ago occasion when she'd materialised at his cabin door in a state of advanced uniform deficiency; but unlike that occasion, the only other garment she was wearing now was a thong.

The second – but almost as significant – thing to register on his consciousness was the presence of a third person in the room. Trip was lying in the bed, half-covered by a blanket. The chief engineer had shed his clothing and was propped against the pillows, his arms behind his head in a posture that suggested he was trying to appear relaxed. His expression was carefully neutral. Unlike Hoshi's, which was one of extreme anxiety mixed with defiance.

Malcolm fixed the focal point of his gaze carefully at the top of her forehead while he tried desperately to work out what was going on. He hoped it wouldn't be too long before somebody explained it to him, because he was getting the distinct impression that he hadn't been summoned here to sort out an insect problem.

The stupidest things go through your brain, sometimes. He found himself trying to decide the correct protocol to follow in his position. Strictly speaking, in the presence of a superior officer he should adopt a semi-formal posture, hands lightly linked behind his back. That, however, would put him in an entirely inappropriate position to Hoshi, whom he outranked. Standing at parade rest in front of a practically naked ensign as though she were his fully-dressed commanding officer was out of the question.

The silence seemed to go on for an extremely long time.

"Lieut– _Malcolm_." She was the first to break it. Her voice had been determinedly even when she started, but midway through the title it broke, and ended a little too loud and high with nerves. "Earlier on – you said–"

"I remember what I said." Even in his own ears his interruption was too fast. If he wanted to get an explanation he'd have to be more patient than that, though the compulsion was growing in him to spin on his heel and get out of here; not that there would be much prospect of sleep for him now, with the picture he'd never be able to get off his retinas, not even if he took a blowtorch to them.

He couldn't imagine why she'd summoned him here. Was it some kind of mockery? Payback, for being too obvious in his desire earlier on?

And what the fuck was Trip getting out of this warped little trick? Did he think it was fun, watching the Brit squirm? Was this some appalling ego trip of '_You lost, I won, and look what you're missing'_?

There was another silence. In another life he'd have derived amusement from seeing the ship's linguist lost for words.

Then, with a sharp, angry exclamation in what sounded like Klingon, she closed the distance between them with three strides. Next instant the hands that had covered her breasts were clasped around his head, and she was kissing him ferociously.

In his fantasies he'd thought her kisses would be gentle, if not shy, but this savage invasion of his mouth was infinitely more thrilling. His hands, suddenly beyond his conscious control, clamped on her body, but then in another second he'd got back his senses and fairly pushed her away.

"No," he said, panting as he stared between her and Trip, who hadn't moved. "I'm not playing any game till I know the rules."

"No rules that I know of." The American's drawl was more pronounced than ever. "Just obligin' a lady and havin' a good time. You have a problem with that, Malcolm?"

He'd never had a problem with that, but there were certain other issues that needed to be addressed before the hormones that were now washing around his body were given the green light. "You … It was always women with you."

Trip shrugged. "I've experimented now and then. You?"

Malcolm nodded briefly. In all honesty, the thought of sharing a bed with another man brought up memories he'd rather have left buried, ones that filled him with as much apprehension as excitement. In the service of Section 31 he'd used all the weapons at his command; he could still remember his first homosexual encounter, which had been as painful as it had been darkly thrilling. Practice had numbed his initial dislike and taught him how to avoid the pain, but even now he could only associate a male body against his with predation – kill or be killed. Though of course it hadn't always been a matter of killing; sometimes it was just a means to a different end, but the end was always destruction for the victim. One way or another.

"Good." A slow, hot smile curved the chief engineer's mouth. "Wouldn't want the ship's weapons expert mad at me for touchin' him by accident." His gaze travelled down Malcolm's body, to where the grinding ache of lust had finally broken its owner's hard-held control. "Or on purpose."

"_Especially_ not on purpose." He could now let his own gaze feast on Hoshi's body, a symphony of light and shadow in the candlelight. His right hand cupped one small, perfect breast, and his thumb stroked the nipple, touching it as softly as the by-brush of a breath.

There were too many pitfalls here, and he was aware of all of them. But he was sick and tired of being careful, of weighing up the chances and walking like Agag. Of being respectful and respectable and so quintessentially English, a walking stuffed shirt who'd presumably only make love in the missionary position, and _never _with the lights on…

"Well," he said, trying to keep his voice light and not quite succeeding, "I suppose this is where someone says 'Let the games commence!'"

Hoshi reached out and pulled open his jacket. Her fingertips sliding onto his skin fired off charges like Fifth of November fireworks.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said sultrily.

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	4. Chapter 4

_**Sato**_

_It was what I've dreamed of, but more and different._

_I didn't think either of them would go for it. Seconds after Malcolm nodded, all three of us were buck-naked, and the excitement alone when we got going was enough to give me a heart attack._

_I was overwhelmed by too many sensations. Three of us, wrapped in a heaving mess on top of the bed; hands everywhere, mouths everywhere, and my body on fire with wanting both of them._

_After months of starvation, I guess none of us were in the mood to wait. Within moments I had Malcolm's mouth between my legs. Trip swallowed my near-scream of delight as I spread myself, thrilling to the sheer sexuality of being a woman taking two lovers. Both tongues demonstrated what their owners would be doing to me shortly._

_It was too damned exciting to lie still. I wanted to feel both of them, to have both of them. And they could have me … when I was ready. And not before._

_Looking back, I'm not sure any of us were sane – or sober. They did their damnedest to pin me down, but somehow every time I'd wriggle free, taunting and flaunting. They laughed and cursed, and kissed each other till I broke in on the act, recalling their attention. The time would come when I'd have the pleasure of watching, but first they must satisfy me. And they were going to satisfy me. Oh yes. They were going to satisfy me as often as I wanted._

_I don't know who decided what or if it just happened. Midway through another tangle that was as much war as lust, Trip finally trapped me. The sensation – my god, the feeling of hard warm flesh sliding into me; I couldn't bite back the wail of delight._

_I looked down the length of my body, tilting my head to see past Malcolm, whose mouth was covering my left breast; he was lapping at my nipple like a little cat drinking milk. Trip had rolled between my parted thighs with a gasp of triumph, and the expression on his face was one of rapt and blissful concentration as he started giving me what we both wanted._

_Malcolm sat up to watch. The fingers that were deft on the trigger of a phase pistol went on teasing my nipples._

_As the tension ratcheted up and up in my belly, and Trip's strokes got harder and faster, Malcolm leaned down and kissed me. His mouth still tasted of my fluids. He's got a wicked, skilful tongue. "My turn next, Hoshi," he whispered. His English accent was stronger than ever, and incredibly sexy. "Come for Trip. I want to watch you come, Ensign. And that's an order."_

_Needless to say, I couldn't disobey a direct order from a superior officer. In another few seconds I was thrashing like a speared salmon, the waves of orgasm surging through me from where Enterprise's chief engineer was clearly on the brink of having his warp core go critical._

_Malcolm rolled suddenly, one of the swift movements that are so typical of him. Next moment he was behind Trip, and both of us squealed – me, though I'd hardly any breath left, and Trip as something finally cracked his control. Malcolm bit Trip's shoulder and ran his tongue up the neck, where the tendons were standing out like cords; I can guess where his left index finger was, but his right had slipped into my sex and was cracking open another layer of heaven with tiny circular movements, as skilful as they were precise. His eyes never left my face, taking in every contortion as Trip's body slammed against mine._

_As the pleasure finally subsided and Trip rolled off me, panting, I was able to gasp for air; gasps that quickly turned to one of excitement as Malcolm's expression suddenly turned predatory. He wanted me, and it was clear that the ship's weapons officer was prepared to use whatever force was necessary if I turned awkward._

_As if I would. As if I didn't want him inside me, now, while I was still quivering from another man's lovemaking, spending all that formidable strength of his on giving me pleasure._

_Only the knowledge that T'Pol and the captain were only a few meters away let me bite back the moan of anticipation as he maneuvered me expertly and precisely into position. He wanted to watch everything as I pleasured myself on him. The control freak was giving me control, but that in itself was controlling me._

_I didn't care. I'd asked for this. I'd known what it would entail._

_His hardness slipped into my slickness. I started to rock back and forth, groaning as the pleasure mounted again. Trip, recovering quickly, got in on the act almost at once. Much to my delight, as my nipples, stiff with arousal, became the center of his attention._

_It was the start of a long, hot night of discovery and delight. For three people who'd started it as effective strangers, we ended it in a tangle of weary, sated bodies who were utterly intimate with each other. The first hint of dawn came all too soon, and after the two of them had slipped away to their own rooms, my bed was large and empty. I curled up in it, smelling sex and sweat, and I don't think it's ever been with more reluctance that I headed for the shower to wash off the evidence._

_Twinges here and there showed me that there was some that wouldn't wash off. But then I'd left my partners in crime with evidence of my own affection too. At a guess the next time exercise periods were scheduled I wouldn't be the only one donning a T-shirt instead of a tank top, and keeping it on regardless of the discomfort._

_I've never done anything like this before. But I want more. I look across the Bridge and watch Malcolm whom I once dismissed as passionless; to all appearances he's the absolute professional, but just now and again I catch his gaze, and when it happens we both remember. I know it. He knows it. And when Trip comes out on to the bridge we both look at him, and all three of us remember._

_It was supposed to be a one-off._

_Maybe that was naive of all of us to think human relationships could ever be that simple. Because what happened down there was anything but simple. Before, there was hunger. Now, there's addiction._

_I want the next hit._

_And god help me, I want it soon._

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	5. Chapter 5

_**Tucker**_

_There was something absolutely surreal about it._

_Surreal and … hell, yeah, as sexy as all hell._

_I guess for a few seconds we were all a bit uptight, and then the feeling of warm naked skin took over. It's been so long since Natalie, and Risa … well, we know what happened on Risa._

_I'll admit it took me something to get over putting my hand on Malcolm's body. The contrast, you know? Hoshi was just what I'd dreamed of, soft and sexy and pliable, all curves and wanting. I just had to discover that Malcolm has curves too, and though the flesh beneath is hard with muscle the skin is just as sensitive. And he too has wants: voracious ones._

_Outside the bed, his control is formidable. Inside it, he's a weird contrast: confident and somehow nervous, like a skittish thoroughbred racehorse. Once he's hit his stride, he's as breathtaking as any thoroughbred; damn, it lent a whole new meaning to his title of 'weapons officer'. I suppose I thought originally that he'd be shy when it came his turn to play, but that misapprehension lasted only as long as it took him to roll on to his back and pull Hoshi on top of him. He didn't give a damn about anything but fucking her, and hell, it looked so goddamn amazing, I couldn't take my hands off either of them. I have a heck of a problem now when I walk on to the Bridge and see the pair of them in their official personas: Hoshi as neat as a pin, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and Malcolm all prissy uptight Brit, fussing about the cannon alignment like it's the only thing he cares about in the world. Once or twice the images have been so clear I've had to spin around and run for the turbo-lift again, pretending I've forgotten something important. The exact opposite is true, of course – I've remembered, not forgotten. Remembered Malcolm transfixed with pleasure, with his hair all rumpled and just the suggestion of clenched teeth visible between his parted lips; remembered Hoshi, moaning as we both have her at once, the goddess accepting the gifts of her worshipers. Only Jon and T'Pol look puzzled. At the Tactical and Communications stations there are looks of dark complicity. They know why I run._

_When I said to Hoshi that whatever happened on the planet stayed on the planet, I genuinely believed it. Now, though, I'm not so sure. I never expected what happened to be so intense, so … terrifying. Having had it once, I want it again. Today Malcolm and I had to work in one of the Jeffries tubes; it's close quarters in there at the best of times. Usually I'd get one of my own people in there with me, but I'm ashamed to admit I pretended it was something that needed Malcolm's expertise. He knew I was lying, of course, but he didn't say anything; he just looked at me, ice and fire, and although neither of us said or did a damn thing the whole ship couldn't have seen, I could smell his aftershave, that spicy smell that's sort of like pine needles, and his eyes just occasionally lingered on my mouth just half a second too long._

_My mouth … it remembers the feeling of his kisses, hard kisses as we rolled over and over on the bed like mating eels, with Hoshi urging us on. It remembers the feeling of Hoshi's breasts, the taste of her honey. My shoulders still have faint teethmarks from the moment when that formidable control snapped; he didn't make much noise, but the vocalization of his release was stifled by my shoulder muscle as though he was afraid he'd scream the place down if he released it._

_I want to hear him scream. I want to hear him let go of everything. I want to hear Hoshi caterwaul like an alleycat as we pleasure her instead of trying to lock her teeth and hold it in. I want to let them both hear how much I'm enjoying myself, how much I love fucking them both. These days I pay attention when T'Pol notifies the captain that there's a Minshara-class planet on our sensors. I try to think of some reason why the chief engineer and the tactical officer and the comms officer should go down there alone and stay the night. I haven't come up with one yet, but I'm working on it._

_It's getting to Hoshi too I think. She came to my cabin late one night, and needless to say it wasn't long before we were in my bunk, at it like rabbits. The memories had been kind of dormant, but all it took was the sight of her gorgeous naked body and they were back. At a guess it was the same for her. Of course the sex was amazing, but somehow there was silence where there should have been a breathy English voice, and our skins missed his skilled hands and his hot mouth and his ... oh, fuck, he must have done more than just 'experiment'... much more. I wanted so much for the door to open to the Head of Security's override code, but it didn't happen; maybe he didn't know, and maybe he was just lying there on his bunk remembering and imagining, his lust every bit as savage as mine but only his hand to do duty._

_I wished he was with us. I know Hoshi felt the same, though neither of us said anything of course; just in the silence afterwards, we searched each other's eyes and I guess she saw in mine the same thing I saw in hers. Thing is, though, if I know Malcolm he'll need to process what happened, to get everything sorted out in his mind. Till he's got that done, he'll keep his distance, try to keep everything buttoned down and under control. But every time our glances cross I can see his desperation, and I know I'm not the only one hoping he won't take too long._

_I don't think it's love. I don't know what it is, but if it's a disease I've got it bad. Somehow I don't think Phlox would be able to manufacture an antidote either. At a guess he'd just recommend repeated doses of the hair of the dog. Hell, I could live with that. And if it's classed as a medical emergency, even the captain couldn't complain._

_Doctor Reed, Doctor Sato, the patient requires urgent attention. And make that a whole night's worth._

_At least._

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><p><strong>All reviews received with gratitude!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**_Reed_**

_Conditioning._

_Thank God for conditioning, for duty, for the regulations … I ignore a voice in my head that screams 'Fuck the regulations!', because that's what got me into this (I nearly said 'hole' but that would be too apposite) situation in the first place._

_I ignore it but the memories are torture, every moment on the Bridge a torment beyond endurance._

_Fortunately my external self functions extremely well on auto-pilot. I'm proud of the way I monitor the scanners and carry out regular routine maintenance of the targeting systems. I report any findings to the captain or his SiC with the same impersonal efficiency as ever. The tactical officer to die for, that's me._

_My team in the Armoury seem to notice nothing amiss. I did struggle a bit to beat Crewman Fletcher at chess the other evening, but that was because Hoshi walked past us in the Mess and instead of moving my queen to take the rook that Fletcher fondly believed he was moving up unnoticed on my flank, I moved it blindly to stand between king and knight. The king's face is impassive; it shows nothing. The knight's stallion, by contrast, is full of expression, its mouth open in a silent scream of exhilaration._

_Fletcher was definitely puzzled by that little _faux pas_. He spent a good two minutes trying to spot the trap, sure there was one. So there was, and I'd fallen into it. It took me all of my skill to rescue the situation, and in the end it was a damn close call. The game had attracted some attention by the time it ended, and there were a few sighs as the master finally brought matters to a proper conclusion. Fletcher beamed regardless, knowing he'd run me hard, and the spectators who agreed with him clapped him warmly on the shoulder. Trip was watching too, and his hand on my shoulder rested there for just an instant too long – though not long enough for anyone else to notice. To me, it felt like an eternity._

_Normally I don't say anything when I win, but just gently touch the base of the winning piece to the defeated king. I certainly don't use enough force to tip it over – an action that's vulgar and overrated. Tonight, however, Hoshi was at a table a short distance away. I know how acute her hearing is, how good she is at picking up even the faintest emphasis. I didn't even have to raise my voice when I murmured 'Check – and mate.'_

_I had to leave, after that, before I lost my fragmenting control; before I crossed the Mess Hall, ripped down the zip of Hoshi's uniform, and tore off everything that stood between me and her beautiful body. I know Trip would have been a heartbeat behind me._

_That scene would definitely have made a memorable entry in the Captain's Log. I wonder if there are classification markers? That one would certainly merit 'For Adult Viewing Only'._

_I know Trip was trying to catch my eye as I left. I didn't dare comply. His eyes are as blue as periwinkle flowers._

_In the Jeffries tube a day or so later he smelled of sandalwood, as he always does. As he'd been working hard in hot, cramped conditions, it was overlaid with sweat. I'm sure he had no idea how much self-control it took for me to lie alongside him and focus my attention on the wiring relays. Now and again, much as I tried to avoid it, our bodies brushed accidentally. It was like touching a live wire, but as well as the physical sensation, all the images I'd tried to so hard to bury in the back of my mind came rushing back over it like a tsunami. His body sliding against mine, his mouth … God, his mouth, his tongue, flickering like flame over all the most sensitive areas of my body. His voice, raw with passion, breaking down the last barriers of my resistance. His hands, that are so skilled on any engineering project, constructing desire in me like a multiple-headed atomic missile whose every detonation he personally supervised._

_Needless to say, I made my excuses and left as quickly as I could. _

_Unfortunately, I had to return to duty on the Bridge; it's just as well that nothing occurred that required me to stand up for the remainder of my watch, because the other half of my undoing was almost directly opposite me. Hoshi, with her hair tightly tied back as per regulations, neat and professional and untouchable – Hoshi, who had been naked beside me and under me and over me, who had spread her private parts for my delectation and then taken full and active part in everything that our sinful imaginations could conjure up. I could still smell her, I could still taste her, and my groin tingled and pulsed with the memory of the welcoming heat of her body. It was little more than luck that I got through the watch without disgracing myself, though there were moments when I feared a mad dash for the toilet might be a necessity. That night, the punch-bag in the gym almost split with the efforts I made to wear myself out before I finally crawled into bed, but even then there was no respite. Even after I'd spent my desperation alone in the shower, my body still ached with longing: not just for the primitive ecstasy of sex, but for the whole vast experience of … I can only call it 'intimacy'. Alone in the dark, I had no refuge. I remembered everything. Just as I'm remembering tonight._

_In my heart I believe I'm heterosexual. I love women's bodies. It was the Section that uncovered my 'Dark Side', the desires I was conditioned to find abnormal and disgusting. My conditioning in that particular respect helped me to submerge any fragment of pity or remorse in loathing for my partner; the pleasure (for I soon learned there _was _pleasure) was payment for my shame and degradation._

_So, where now, Malcolm Reed? Where now, when one of the bodies in the bed with you is that of a man you like and respect, and you can't despise him or loathe what he does to you or hopes you'll do in return (for in this, as in all things, there are preferences and limits yet to be established…) Where now, when you find his kisses deeply arousing, when his touch sends thrills through you and you watch him making love to a beautiful woman and can't decide which of the two naked bodies excites you more?_

_Hoshi… I cared, and I still do care, but now what was clear and simple has become complicated, muddied with too many uncertainties and tinged with a lingering sense of fear and shame. My father was quick to judge, in this as in so many other things, and I can still remember his scathing words on the subject of a neighbour's son who made no secret of his homosexuality. We're supposed to have outgrown our prejudices on this particular subject long ago, but beneath the surface of things, the old hatred lingers. And I, like the rest of humanity, cannot wholly escape the past that made me what I am._

_But still, she was utterly beautiful. When I look across the Bridge I know how beautiful she is when all she is wearing is the glow of arousal. Not many women, I suspect, could enter into such a situation for the first time without some sign of hesitation or false modesty, but once committed she was as openly and unselfconsciously sexual as one of the carved goddesses on a Khajuraho temple frieze. She submerged herself in every moment, in a way few women I've known could ever have done. Even afterwards, there was no subtle change in her behaviour towards me, no indication that she regretted it or wished to forget. Quite the contrary, in fact. At risk of sounding unduly conceited, I think she enjoyed our illicit little escapade every bit as much as we did – and wouldn't be at all averse to a repeat of it. A realisation that fills me with as much anxiety as excitement._

_I was as nervous as I can ever remember being when I touched Trip in front of her. One hint of judgement, of repulsion – dear God, I don't know what I would have done. Certainly not what I did afterwards, nor could I have even stayed in the bed with them. Now my defences were down so utterly, I was terrified by the degree of exposure I felt. Not physically – men will be men, and there was always going to be an element of competition, but Trip and I were pretty evenly matched in that department – but in my closely-guarded soul._

_But there was no judgement. There was only acceptance, and between the intoxication of that and the near-desperation of crossing the line the Section had drawn in me, I was lost. I don't know if my abandon scared him – I know it scared me. I wanted to act and found I was acting as myself. So I ask myself again, where does that leave me? Where does it leave us?_

_What will happen when the next chance comes? Trip's always been eager for adventure, for setting foot on new worlds. It seems he's encountered one that enchants him. Is he aware of the danger, I wonder? I know I am. Lieutenant Paranoid strikes again, thinking and feeling too much. What if my history strikes again? What if I consent to continue this (because the chance will come, I know) and once again the curse comes home, and two more ex-friends are left to loathe the monster behind the mask?_

_I don't know. All I know is that they accepted me and I accepted them. Acceptance has not been in such ample supply in my life that I dare squander it when it comes. Maybe in that hot scented night I was a little drunk with it. Now, however, I'm sober. I see the risks. For them, as well as for me._

_But don't they deserve to make their own judgements, take their own risks? Having trusted me, do they deserve to have that trust flung back in their faces?_

_Where does lust end and love begin? Is this just a monumental piece of idiocy, or the chance of a lifetime?_

_My judgement is fatally compromised. It went up in flames in a single night, a night of unbelievable and unguessed-at passion. Now I lie on my bunk, tormented in body and soul, the ice of my discipline at war with the fire of my desire._

_Maybe elsewhere in the ship Trip and Hoshi are locked in the dance of love. Against the blackness of my eyelids I see their bodies, beautiful and naked. They desire me, as I desire them. But that way, as the old saying has it, lies madness._

_I will not go._

_I dare not._

_Yet…_

**_The End?_**

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